She Tastes Like Cotton Candy
by flight of the mockinjay
Summary: Samhain definitely was breathtaking. But try as he might, Harry couldn't focus.There were a million things he could be taking in right now but all he could think of was her. Head cannon with OC


So this is just a personal HC I wrote for a fan of one of my Harry Potter FB pages

Hogsmeade was beautiful on Halloween.

The true wizardry spirit of Samhain dances through the air, a feeling of elation rippling through the crowd. Witches everywhere giggle under their breath as wizards attempt to sweep them off their feet, taking advantage of the more than romantic night; balls of light float in the sky, trickling down on the party-goers like snow, disappearing at the touch of skin; the scent of fire whisky and magic is heavy on everybody's noses; witches and wizards of all ages dance around the myriad of bonfires positioned strategically around the grounds.

Hiding in the shadows of Hogsmeade's entrance, a group of third years enter the grounds. Awes ripple from the group, amazed by the beauty of the night. It's traditional for third years to visit Hogsmeade on Halloween, a tradition that derived from this being their first year allowed at Hogsmeade. Decades ago Dumbledore had come to the conclusion that if third years were to see Hogsmeade, they shouldn't be deprived of its best night of the year.

And Samhain definitely was breathtaking.

But try as he might, Harry couldn't focus. He couldn't force his eyes to watch the flames lick at party goers' legs as they joked and dared each other to jump over the bonfire; the moon, larger than a full moon, tugging seemingly ever closer to the town. There were a million things he could be taking in right now but all he could think of was her.

Hannah's eyes lit up the moment she entered Hogsmeade. While all the other third years giggle and chase each other through the grounds, desperate to make the most of their night of freedom, Hannah stood shell shocked, her lips parted in wonder and her eyes wide with glory. Balls of light flutter against her skin before dimming into disappearance, but Harry hardly notices. The moon flashes against her face, positioned perfectly to catch its light, and Harry has never been more fixated. Her auburn hair dances down her back and Harry feels the need to run his fingers through it, catching his palm against the back of her head and dragging her lips to reach his own. He imagines her kisses would be sweeter than any lolly, that they'd taste like cotton candy and be butterfly light. Harry licks his lips nervously and that's when he realises her crystal eyes have fallen on him.

Shock and nerves ripple through his stomach, butterflies attacking him viciously. A slow smile dances across Hannah's bubble-gum-pink lips, playful mischief kissing her expression. Her lips dance a slow waltz of words, and then she's gone, caressing the wall that opened into the alley besides The Three Broomsticks.

"Follow me." Her lips had said, leaving Harry's heart thrumming painfully in his chest. Girls have never been his thing. He's too shy, too nervous, too meek to handle girls. That's why for the past three years he's merely stared at Hannah, long enough to memorise the planes of her face, to name each strand of her hair. But tonight is Samhain, a night of miracles.

A night of love.

So Harry follows her, his steps unsure yet determined, until he enters the alley. Darkness appears before him and his eyes squint into the shadows, desperately trying to find the chestnut-haired girl he so desires. He takes an experimental step forwards, and then another. Before he knows it he's engulfed by the shadows, hidden in a blanket of darkness. He makes it halfway through the alley before he's certain that he must have been seeing things, that Hannah isn't here. Just as he's about to turn and leave, lips brush his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"Boo." She whispers, a voice sweet as caramel corn. A helplessly goofy smile caresses Harry's lips, but he doesn't move to see her. If he turns he might realise that this is all a dream, that Hannah Pike, girl of his dreams, isn't millimetres behind him, her lips close enough to kiss.

"I'm terrified." He replies, hoping she doesn't hear his breathlessness.

"I can hear." She replies and Harry can hear the smile in her voice. He feels the heat from her body leave his back and, repressing the disappointment it causes him, he refuses to wonder where she went. "Lumos." She whispers and light explodes between them. Harry blinks the light into his eyes at least five times before realising that Hannah is now in front of him, her nose just millimetres from his own. His pulse picks up dramatically and it shows in his face. A soft giggle dances from Hannah's lips, enough to make him feel weak in the knees.

Suddenly, every second of every minute of every hour that he spent staring at her, dreaming about her, wanting her, gathers together before attacking him like a tsunami. "I like you." He gasps, shock from his words tingling his skin. He expects Hannah to gasp in shame and run away, not believing that someone as awkward and inexperienced as him could actually like her.

What happens next shocks him into paralysis.

Hannah's lips crash into his own, stealing his breath and sending his heart into overdrive. When she pulls away he notices that his arms are looped around her waist and hers are around his neck.

"I like you too." She whispers, leaning in close to rub their noses together. Another sickly sweet giggle tickles from her throat, gentle enough to turn his organs into mush, before their lips meet again.

Harry was right; she does taste like cotton candy.


End file.
